Based on the classical philosophy of "everything is here\ ,"Wayne still let little Taylor lead the way, wanting to go to the mine workers' residence to learn more about the situation. The temporary shack area where the workers live is built in a river valley outside the mine. At little Taylor's strong suggestion, Inissa did not continue into the valley, but stopped her horse and waited outside. It seems that there are quite a lot of people living here. As soon as I walked into the valley, I was greeted by a sour and smelly smell, and I also saw a lot of shirtless people. There was a layer of mining dust on the road, and small garbage such as cigarette butts and playing cards were everywhere. There were piles of empty bottles outside many shacks. Take a look around the overall situation inside. Most of the simple huts in the valley are built together. The boundaries between the "piles" are clear, but the distance between the shacks in the same "piles" is a bit crowded. It feels a bit like everyone sticking together and not interfering with each other.
Little Taylor introduced Wayne to the side: "Most of the workers working here are not free people. They are basically illegal immigrants, indigenous people or escaped slaves. Anyway, as long as they can abide by the safety regulations in the mine and don't cause trouble, we welcome them and never ask about their origins. "Most of the workers gathered together according to skin color, language, or hometown. The ones who have stayed the longest are probably the indigenous people living there, but they may not want to pay attention to us." Wayne looked in the direction little Taylor pointed. Over there was a somewhat "isolated" shack, quite far away from other neighbors in the valley. It was even surrounded by a simple fence, about chest-high. Then when Wayne just walked into the fence, He saw a yellow-skinned man with a conspicuous feather headdress, oil paint on his face, and distinctive clothing. A living aborigine. Not the kind where the scalp is cut off. The aboriginal uncle was sharpening his axe. When he saw Little Taylor and Wayne, he looked a little dissatisfied and said to Little Taylor: "Mr. Taylor, according to the agreement, this is not the place you are supposed to come." "Hahaha, Tecumseh, don't be so formal." Little Taylor changed the subject and introduced Wayne to the other party: "This is the Sheriff of Black Rock Town, Mr. Constantine. He came to see you today to learn about the infectious disease in the valley." After hearing this, the aboriginal uncle was stunned for a moment, then continued to sharpen his axe: "There is no infectious disease at all. It's all caused by you white immigrants." Wayne: ...(_) I'm innocent. After hearing this, Taylor spread his hands towards Wayne, and his expression probably meant, "See, I told you they don't care about us anymore."
Wayne thought about it and moved closer: "Sir, could you please tell me what happened when the infectious disease spread before? Why do you think someone is playing tricks?" The aboriginal uncle seemed a little impatient: "Normal infectious diseases start with the elderly and weak and gradually spread, and there is a traceable spread. How is it possible that a large number of people are always directly infected and become ill at the same time? It is obvious that someone is deliberately spreading the disease repeatedly." "Always? Repeatedly?" Wayne frowned and turned to look at little Taylor. "It sounds like the same thing has happened several times before. You didn't pay much attention to it before?" Little Taylor looked innocent, and the aboriginal uncle sneered: "Why would he care? As long as there are still capable workers in the mines, they don't care about the lives of others. Anyway, the number of people who died of illness is probably not as many as those who died in accidents in the mines." Little Taylor was a little unhappy. "Hey, Tecumseh, we did call a doctor to provide treatment. We didn't just ignore it." "That little pill the quack gave me didn't work at all." The aboriginal uncle stood up and said, "It's better for them to be like us and have less contact with outsiders like you. If they are infected, they can drink the herbs given by the witch doctor. You see, after doing this, the laborers who died in the valley in the past two years are only black and white." "What is the specific disease? Can you tell me more about it?" Wayne asked. "You should ask someone else," the aboriginal uncle said, holding an axe in one hand and making a gesture to see the guest off. "Mr. Taylor, according to the agreement, we should not disturb each other normally." After being half-driven out of the fence, Wayne asked Taylor in confusion, "Who is this uncle? Why is he so rude to you, the mine manager?" "Hey, Wayne, don't worry about it. That's just the way Tecumseh is." Little Taylor put his arm around Wayne's shoulders and said, "He is the head of an aboriginal tribe and can attract a lot of laborers. It's not worth falling out with him. "Because many small towns don't trade with indigenous people, the compensation I give them is directly converted into supplies, and I can make a profit from the difference through discounts. He is a high-quality customer, so he deserves some preferential treatment." Tsk. capitalist. Afterwards, Little Taylor took Wayne to ask a few other leading workers, and they were able to piece together the general information. There was indeed a small-scale epidemic in the mines, which the workers called "fever." Every year some people are infected, develop the disease rapidly, die quickly, and have a low chance of survival. At the beginning, fever occurred less frequently and the mortality rate was not high, but in recent years, the frequency of fever seems to be getting higher and higher, and the number of deaths each time seems to be increasing. The workers suspected that this was caused by coal washing wastewater from the mine polluting the water source. So Wayne picked up an empty wine bottle and took some samples back. Whether or not there is a way to test it is one thing; But when it comes to investigation, a professional image is always necessary.
… When we returned to the town again, it was already late at night. Wayne first went to the police station to check the cages and the new prisoners. After confirming that there should be no problems, he prepared to go home with peace of mind. The town judge has arranged for people to take care of things like bandaging wounds and providing food. As for subsequent matters, if they do not involve the long-distance escort of prisoners, they are basically the job of the judge. After all, it is a pioneer town, so many tasks can only be done in a perfunctory manner and the procedures will be fine. Everyone is used to it. "Mr. Sheriff, please wait." Before he walked out of the prison, Wayne saw the criminal who surrendered today, holding his shoulders and sitting up in the cage. Um?! What do you want to do? Wayne's hand immediately went to the handle of the gun. Could this guy also transform? Thinking of this, Wayne's other hand touched the holy water bottle. Fortunately, the prisoners in the cage, He simply sat up. Then he looked at Wayne and asked: "Mr. Sheriff, I want to know how a case like mine is usually sentenced in your town?" Wayne thought about it: "He shot and attacked innocent people who were not carrying weapons many times, and he also chased them. His criminal intent is obvious, and it is at least attempted murder. In addition, he committed the crime in a gang and attacked the sheriff. According to the practice of Black Rock Town, he should be sentenced to death by hanging. "Don't worry. There is enough evidence. The verdict is very fast in this town. Basically, there will be a result tomorrow morning. You don't have to worry about it. Go to bed early." "If I can provide important clues, is there a chance to reduce my sentence?" The other party swallowed and paused for a moment, "For example, I know someone is planning to attack your town, and I can provide accurate information."